I don't know what this is but this is clearly not my best work. Akachankami tried to help me get it better but I'm still not sure I like it to be honest. Well… Have it and tell me.
It takes place in the gap between S2 and S3 and glosses over S3 with what we knew from the trailer so… I guess it will never be S3 compliant.
It's fluff by the way, it will rot your teeth.
Say It With Flowers : A Story In Four Acts
1 - Azalea
The decision to go back to Mount Weather is hard to take but it is a necessary one. With Abby still recovering – and slowly going stir crazy from being stuck in bed – it's Marcus who makes the call. He and Abby don't really discuss it, they don't need to. They both know the Mount Weather facility would be a better long term option than Camp Jaha, they also know bringing the extremely traumatized kids back there isn't a good idea right now. The available resources, however, shouldn't be wasted.
Marcus doesn't really give anyone time to rest. He is of the opinion that the more they push the chore back, the harder it will be. Bellamy volunteers, followed tentatively by a couple of kids and Lincoln. He accepts Bellamy's help but rejects the kids and the Grounder, choosing some of his most trusted guards instead. He leaves the camp to Miller, and Abby to the terrifying force that's Octavia – he doesn't trust Jackson to force her to get the rest she needs but Octavia now… She even scares him a little.
The eight hours hike is torture on his barely healed thigh – and there is probably a matter of pot and kettle in berating Abby for refusing to take proper care of herself when he goes trekking with a recently punctured artery – and with each new step Bellamy grows gloomier making him wonder if taking him along was a good idea after all. The crux of the matter is Bellamy has a lot of potential and the kids respect him as much as they respect Clarke. There are two communities right now at Camp Jaha, the Hundred and the Arkers, and that can't go on for much longer. Marcus is hoping they can meet somewhere in middle ground, maybe by offering a seat on the Council but that's something he needs to talk with Abby about.
Their mission is supposed to be about resources but they find themselves digging graves. They waste time but Marcus chooses to see this as investment. Not only is it the decent thing to do – and for Bellamy it is clearly therapeutic – it will make further trips to the Mountain easier to digest. They camp there for the night and start scavenging the next morning. There are a lot to take and food is the priority but the Mountain is huge and somehow Marcus gets sidetracked by the library and the storeroom with paintings, sculptures and other masterpieces. They come straight out of history books and it feels odd to see them with his own two eyes.
He stumbles on the greenhouses by accident. There are several of them, mostly full of vegetables, but he finds one full to the brim with various flowers that have no real medicinal utility. The fact that they kept such a thing when tending to the greenhouse must have required them to wear protective suits stuns him.
The differences between Mount Weather and the Ark are glaring. The Ark's priority always was efficiency, an utilitarian almost cruel way of life where every last piece of paper counted because their resources were limited. There was no place for beauty in space, no place for art and flowers. Mount Weather was all beauty, art and flowers. Their cruelty was hidden behind steel walls when the Ark's had been printed in rule books for everyone to see.
Marcus wanders on the narrow paths between walls of flowers and wonders which of the two is the worst.
Plants have always been a passion of his ever since his mother made him Tender of The Tree in his childhood. He has read everything the Ark's limited library had to offer on the subject. He knows medicinal plants and he knows of trees and flowers. He knows their language too.
It is a secret thoroughly long guarded that he always regretted the absence of vegetation on the Ark. Maybe that's why he was so fond of the Tree in his youth. One of the first thing he did when they touched ground was to reach out to the closest piece of greenery and rub a delicate leave between his fingers.
The colors in the greenhouse are vibrant: different shades of pink, red, yellow, blue and white. He is always surprised by how bright everything is on the ground. After a lifetime spent under harsh neon lights and trapped between dull grey walls, the change is sometimes overwhelming. The smells too assault him to the point he feels drunk on them.
"Kane." Bellamy calls from the door, looking a little wary. "We're ready to go."
"I'm coming." he says and the kid nods and leaves without another word.
He is about to follow when his eyes fall on the delicate pink patch of flowers on his right. Azaleas. Something to give to a loved one to tell them to take care of themselves, the memory comes unbidden and he pockets a few flowers on a whim.
It is only later that day, when they're back at camp and he drops by the medical tent, not entirely surprised to see Abby hopping all around the room checking on sleeping patients, that he figures out why he picked them up. He places the flowers on the bed she is supposed to be resting on and gives her a pointed look that she only answers with pursed lips and a determined gaze.
"I sent Octavia away." she almost challenges him. "I am needed."
"Not right now." he argues. "What happens when someone really needs you and you're too exhausted to take care of them? Stay off that leg."
She folds her arms across her chest and the pursed lips morph into a pout. "Since when do Councilmen give orders to their Chancellor, Kane?"
"Since they're friends, Abby." he replies firmly, refusing to fall in her trap.
With a sigh, she relents, limping to her bed and sitting down. "I could say the same to you, you know. I didn't spend hours stitching you up only for you to destroy my work." She frowns a little. "I should check you."
"I know you love to check me out but right now you need to rest." he jokes. It's a stupid joke. He doesn't even know why he makes it.
She looks down suddenly and he wonders if he is imagining the soft blush on her cheeks. She finally spots the flowers and she reaches out, caressing the delicate petals with her fingertips. She shoots him a curious glance. "Are these for me?"
"They're Azaleas." he shrugs, slightly embarrassed by this boyish demonstration of… He doesn't even know what this is. "It's a symbol of femininity and it's also a get well flower. I think."
A soft smile plays on her lips as she brings the flowers to her nose and smells them in. "Thank you, Marcus."
He smiles back and drops on a nearby cot because his leg is bothering him and he needs to brief her on Mount Weather.
2 – White Poppy
Abby Griffin doesn't wallow.
She never had, not even when her husband was floated, and it is something Marcus always admired. She is strong like few people ever are and he respects that, respects her for it.
Clarke's decision to leave without a goodbye hurts her, he can see it plainly, but instead of giving in to the despair and pain, she focuses on the camp instead. When she is not in the medical tent, she is holding sessions as a Chancellor, meeting with work stations leaders and making decisions that are not always popular. Agitation is stirring in the camp but Marcus' focus is turned to the Grounders outward threat.
He, Abby, and Lincoln talk about reaching out to Indra.
If possible, tensions in the camp increase a notch when that becomes public knowledge. There is a man fueling their people with dissident ideas and Marcus should keep a better eye on him but he is distracted. He is distracted by the Grounders conundrum, trips to Mount Weather to salvage more supplies, training some of the kids for the guards, and, above all, he finds himself distracted by Abby.
They've been on the Council together for long enough that he knows her. He knows when she is planning something rash, he knows when she is not satisfied with any of the options someone submits, he knows when she's worried or anxious, he knows when she's about to scream out of sheer frustration, he knows that when she toys with the ring dangling from the chain around her neck it means she's looking for strength, comfort and confidence… He knows that when she leans against the Ark's metallic structure late at night and stares beyond the fence, clenching the ring in her fist, she is thinking about Clarke.
She is not willing to talk about her daughter.
She suggested he sent a search party early on, something he refused to do because Clarke left of her own will and clearly needs some time to herself. Deep down, Abby knows that he is right – she didn't even argue after all – but it doesn't help.
He finds the white poppy field during a perimeter round late one night.
He leaves them in front of her door.
The next morning, she sits next to him at breakfast and eats in silence for a few minutes. Silence isn't a problem for them. He isn't particularly talkative and she doesn't feel chatting to fill the void is a necessity. Silence is comfortable, their friendship doesn't need words, it's forged in blood and tears not in speeches.
"White poppy is for consolation." she simply says as he finishes his plate and stands up to go check on the patrol schedule he has tasked Bellamy with overseeing.
"Yes." he nods.
"It doesn't console me." she sighs and he opens his mouth – he doesn't know what he wants to say, maybe a sorry that won't amount to much in the grand scheme of things – when she reaches out and coils her fingers around his wrist. "You do, though. Thank you."
Her hands slides down to his and he squeezes her fingers. "Anything you need."
There is a contemplative look on her face and he waits for her to speak, feeling the stir of something in his stomach.
In the end, she simply nods with a smile.
He doesn't realize he is smiling too until he is standing right in front of Bellamy and the kid shoots him an amused but slightly confused look.
"Someone's in a good mood." he hears the boy tell his sister five minutes later.
He doesn't need to look to know Octavia is rolling her eyes. "Lovesick puppy." the girl declares. Marcus should probably say something but he is far enough that he can save his dignity and pretend he didn't hear. Besides, that kid is terrifying.
3 – Camellia
Shit hits the fan when Pike leads half the camp against the Grounders and the whole mess is only toppled by the Thelonious disaster.
Two stays in a cell, a few almost dying encounters with Grounders, a dismantled mad AI, a locked up former Chancellor, and a kiss exchanged on the brink of death later, all is back in order or as close to it as can be.
They have Clarke back which is a tremendous boost on Abby's mood.
They still haven't talked about the kiss which is a damper on Marcus'.
Finding Abby alone is an impossible mission those days. She is either swamped with patients, dealing with an emergency around the camp or in the room she now shares with her daughter. It's not that she isn't receptive. Her eyes light up when he approaches and she always smiles when she sees him and Marcus is pretty confident she isn't avoiding him. They just have rotten luck.
He finally manages to catch her alone in the medical tent one morning and finds himself lacking words. He has spent so much time trying to talk to her he never stopped to think about what he wanted to say.
And thus they remain there, staring at each other for the longest time, an odd tension in the air.
She takes the first step but he takes the second and soon they're reaching for each other and…
"Kane, you're needed on the northern side of the fence." Bellamy says, pushing the curtain and stepping inside without warning. The kid freezes when he sees them, gripping each other's forearms, standing absolutely too close. The boy barely succeeds in keeping his hilarity under control and Marcus is very sure the rumor will have reached the whole camp by tonight – twice probably.
He lets go of Abby and schools his feature into detachment. "I'm coming."
"I bet." Bellamy grins with complete insolence.
"Bellamy." Abby says in what Marcus has dubbed her I'm-the-mom-and-you-better-do-as-I-say-or-there-will-be-consequences voice.
The boy's grin deflates a little but not by much. "Yes, Ma'am."
How and why Abby could make his own new guards obey better than he could, he doesn't know but it stings a little.
He waits until Bellamy is gone to roll his eyes. "This is getting ridiculous."
"Completely." Abby sighs.
"Well…" he shrugs. "Duty calls."
He's halfway to the entrance of the tent when he feels her hand on his arm, holding him back. He turns around, a question already on his lips, but it is swallowed by her mouth. The second of surprise doesn't last long and he is soon responding to her kiss with the same franticness she puts into it. It is just as good as he remembers, maybe even better because this time he isn't going to his probable death. Her fingers tangle in his too long hair, angle his face in the way she wants it and he isn't even surprised she's bossy down to that area. He bundles the sides of her jacket in his fists and uses that to tug her closer to his body.
Their height difference isn't something about which he has ever given too much thought but she feels so tiny against him, so perfect, he wonders how well their bodies would fit together. He forgets everything from the camp, to Earth, to where they are. Nothing exists but her lips and the hand that slips out of his hair to coil around his nape and the soft noises she makes.
"I wouldn't go in there." Bellamy's voice suddenly booms out, louder than strictly necessary, and they jerk apart at the sound of Clarke's answer. He decides he will forget to be mad at Bellamy's earlier behavior since he stuck around to guard the door.
"Later?" Abby says, half a question and half a statement.
"Later." he nods, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.
Later was being optimistic. He deals with the latest crisis – squirrels that are apparently eager to toss themselves at the electrified fences and make the power blow out – and then another – Monty's out of control moonshine distribution – and another and another until it's time for rounds.
They exchange heated glances and secret smiles during the day but not much more and it is ridiculous – as Bellamy dares pointing out once or twice only to shut up when Marcus replies that he isn't making much more progress with Clarke. Griffin women are difficult, Bellamy concludes at the end of their patrol, nodding with all the wisdom of his twenty-something years of age.
Difficult is a good way to put it.
Step by step and trip by trip, he has brought back some seeds and cuttings from the Mount Weather's greenhouse. He now has a sort of flower garden near the camp – which makes some people laugh behind his back, he is aware of it and yet can't begin to care, having a garden full of flowers was a childhood dream.
He intends to leave a bunch of camellias in front of her door but it opens before he can set them down. She stands there, her arms folded in front of her chest, an amused smile on her face.
"Camellias." she says. "What does it mean?"
"Admiration." he replies without hesitation.
She takes the flowers from him and steps back inside, leaving the door open in a clear invitation.
"Where's Clarke?" he asks. Her daughter's absence is glaring.
"Out. If you think she explains herself to me…" she snorts. "She stays with the other kids most nights."
"Ah." It's all he can think of saying because he spent too many nights hesitating in front of her door, turning back because he was thinking about Clarke sleeping inside and all they couldn't say in front of her daughter.
"Tell me, Marcus…" she hums, leaning against the small table in the corner. "Is there a flower that means please take a hint already and take me before I die of old age?"
He swallows, licks his lips and pointedly locks the door. "I'm sure we can think of something."
The next second, his arms are full of Abby.
4 – Red Rose
He sneaks back in bed before she wakes up – or at least he thinks so.
"You were gone." she accuses, turning on her side to wrap an arm around his waist. "Waking up to an empty bed after a night like that is never a pleasant feeling, Marcus."
He smirks at the pout on her lips and her bed hair and the naked skin poking out from underneath the blankets.
"I wanted to give you something." he argues his case, placing the rose on the pillow next to her.
It is bright red and he doesn't need to explain what it means because it's probably the most popular flower for this sort of things.
She barely glances at the rose, she only has eyes for him. She cups his cheek, her thumb retracing his bottom lip and gives him a soft smile.
"Me too." she whispers.
He seals that with a kiss.